#undertale yellow reader insert

Your voice came out soft and uneven.

“I’m sorry, I messed up.”

Starlo blinked.

“Well now,” he said carefully, settling his elbows on the edge of the mattress, “that’s a mighty broad statement there. Care to narrow down the charges?”

Great job, Starlo. Very helpful sheriff dialogue. Ten out of ten.

Your gaze drifted somewhere past him.

“I wish I could just redo it.”

His ears twitched.

Redo what?

Your breathing hitched slightly.

“The first fight.”

Starlo’s posture changed.

Not dramatically.

Just enough that the playful sheriff act loosened a little around the edges.

“You hurt someone?” he asked.

You nodded weakly.

“I thought they were going to hurt me.”

The words slipped out slowly, like they had been buried for a long time.

Starlo listened.

Your voice wavered in the fever haze as the memory surfaced piece by piece.

The glowing bullets.

The panic.

The instinct to defend yourself.

You fought back because you believed your life depended on it.

Starlo’s gloved hands tightened slightly together.

You continued quietly.

“I didn’t know.”

Your voice cracked.

“I didn’t know they were… just as scared as me.”

A long pause followed.

The lantern flickered softly beside the bed.

“I learned after,” you murmured. “Too late.”

Starlo did not interrupt.

The sheriff persona had retreated entirely now.

He simply listened.

“I killed them,” you whispered.

The guilt in your voice felt heavy enough to settle into the floorboards.

You turned slightly in the bed, clutching the blanket closer.

“I wish I could go back.”

Your breathing trembled.

“Redo it. Understand sooner.”

Starlo lowered his head slightly.

Inside his thoughts, something quiet and thoughtful unfolded.

Why you were always so patient.

Why you never got angry when any of the others were too rough with you, but snapped if anybody so much as shoved Karen too hard.

Why you always tried to step between a fight.

It made horrible, perfect sense.

He opened his mouth to speak.

But then you murmured something else.

Something softer.

Something that made his entire brain short-circuit.

“I wish I wasn't human.”

Starlo froze.

Completely.

His mind emptied like someone had pulled the plug on it.

For several seconds, he simply stared at you.

Human.

The word bounced around his skull.

Human?

Human? human?

As in the kind with the SOULS that break the barrier, human??

The sheriff of the Wild East inhaled sharply.

His chair squeaked as he jolted upright.

He had a hand over his mouth before he could say something stupid, and his other hand inched toward his pistol.

Your breathing returned to being slow and uneven.

Still half asleep.

Still feverish.

Still completely unaware that you had just detonated the largest secret in the Underground directly into his lap.

Starlo slowly lowered his hands.

His brain restarted in a very unhelpful sequence of thoughts.

Okay.

Okay!

A human in the dunes with unassuming monsters.

A human in the clinic with all the sick monsters.

A human on his couch yesterday.

A human for whom he may or may not have been developing extremely embarrassing feelings.

He pressed his fingers against the bridge of his glasses.

This is fine.

This is a normal situation.

Sheriffs deal with this all the time.

Wait, no, they absolutely do not.

He glanced back at you.

You looked small under the blankets.

Tired.

Guilty, even in sleep.

And clearly terrified of what the truth might do if anyone discovered it.

Starlo exhaled slowly.

Then he leaned back in the chair, his hat tipping forward again.

“Alright,” he murmured quietly. “That’ll stay between us.”

He stayed beside your bed the rest of the night, pretending not to stare at the bandit mask and think about the human face hidden underneath.

✩₊˚.⋆⭐🏜💛₊˚.⋆✧

The doctor released you once the fever broke.

You returned to your usual routine in the Wild East.

The clothes that made you look different.

The deliberate kindness in every word.

The mask.

Starlo noticed everything.

He wanted to see if anything had changed now that he knew.

But nothing did.

You still helped monsters carry supplies through the market.

You still spoke gently to travelers passing through the dunes.

You still apologized excessively if you bumped into someone.

One afternoon, he saw you kneel down to help a small monster child tie their boot.

Another day, you spent nearly an hour helping an elderly turtle tour around town.

Not once did you act like someone dangerous.

Not once did you look like the terrifying enemy described in old history books.

Starlo leaned against a wooden post near the saloon one evening, watching you laugh with a group of townsfolk.

Inside his head, the realization finally settled into place.

Nothing had changed.

You were still the same person.

The same person who regretted a mistake so deeply it haunted your fever dreams.

The same person who treated strangers kindly because you understood how easy it was to misunderstand each other.

“Reckon that settles it,” he muttered quietly.

Congratulations, genius.

You’re in love with a wanted human.

He groaned softly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“So this is the irony you were on about, huh?”

✩₊˚.⋆⭐🏜💛₊˚.⋆✧

He found you outside, distant from town, later that evening.

You were sitting on a rail, watching the sunset paint the dunes gold.

Your scarf and coat looked absurdly warm for the desert heat.

The bandit mask covered the lower half of your face as always.

Starlo walked up slowly, boots crunching softly in the sand.

“Evenin’, partner,” he said.

You glanced over.

“Evening, sheriff.”

He leaned on the fence beside you.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he spoke quietly.

“I know you’re human.”

Your entire body went rigid.

The silence that followed could have cracked stone.

Starlo had read the comics and seen the movies; he expected a speech, a confession about your guilt, shouting, or something.

Instead, you jumped off the fence and sprinted away faster than he'd ever seen you move.

Starlo felt a little embarrassed to admit that it took him a moment to react before he started chasing after you.

“Hold on now,” he said quickly.

Your voice trembled.

“You gonna kill me, sheriff?”

“No.”

“You should.”

He shook his head.

“You're one of my people now,” he said firmly. “You've never caused trouble for anyone here.”

You looked away.

“I killed someone.”

“I know.”

Your shoulders trembled.

The words were so simple.

Certain.

Starlo took a slow breath.

Then he removed his hat.

Without the shadow of the brim, the soft glow of his blue glasses became visible.

“I," he said.

The confession came out more awkwardly than he had hoped.

Wow, that was incredibly direct. Fantastic work. Very smooth.

Out loud, he continued.

“I liked you before I knew the truth,” he admitted. “And knowing this makes it a bit weird, but it doesn’t change much.”

You stared at him.

“Starlo…”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I reckon the only thing that really changed,” he said, “is that now I understand why you’ve been keeping folks at arm’s length.”

Your eyes softened slightly.

Starlo shifted his weight.

“Human or not,” he said quietly, "you've been good to us, good to me. You keep me and the other four settled down, and I'd be real happy if you'd settled with us, with me...”

The wind moved gently through the dunes.

Your voice came out small behind the mask.

“You know this is a stupid decision, right?”

Starlo smiled faintly.

“Partner,” he said, settling his hat back on his head, “this is the easiest choice I've ever made.”

He untied his lasso from around you.

You blinked. A quiet laugh slipped out before it became full-on tears.

Starlo froze for a full second.

Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around you.

Your voice was soft against his poncho.

“I think…” You grabbed his hat from his head and placed it on your own. “This is the easiest decision I've ever made.”

Starlo’s smile grew wide beneath his glasses, foggy from the steam coming off him as he blushed and stammered at you.

The moment Starlo spotted the polished armor gleaming beneath the overhangs of the saloon, his smile became just a bit stiffer. Nevertheless, he greeted them with all the enthusiasm expected of the famed Sheriff North Star. Tipping his hat low, flashing a bright grin, and spreading his arms wide as if welcoming honored guests to the Wild East. Every movement was dramatic, and every word came with an exaggerated flourish. The townsfolk went along with it, assuming their sheriff was simply puffing his chest out for the sake of impressing Asgore’s Royal Guard. Inside, however, Starlo's stomach had already dropped. People from the capital didn't usually visit the Wild East unless they had business in the Dunes. But he could hear them clearly talking about a vacation. Nothing official, nothing dangerous until Starlo remembers exactly who was currently living in one of the cottages on the edge of town. You.

The guards were settling into the saloon well enough, chatting cheerfully while Dina served drinks. Monsters wandered in and out, enjoying the unusual excitement. Visitors always made for interesting stories. Starlo stayed nearby, polishing the same revolver for a long time without actually cleaning anything. His gaze remained fixed on their table. One guard laughing about work. Another complaining that the only excitement these days came from chasing the dogs or dealing with paperwork. Eventually, the conversation drifting into territory Starlo really wished it hadn’t.

One guard joked that if a human were somehow wandering around again, they would finally get a promotion. Another remarking that collecting a human soul would practically guarantee their own mansion. They were all laughing along, like it was some joke. It was casual, routine even. To them, it was a fantasy. Starlo's fingers tightened around the revolver until the leather glove creaked. His smile disappeared beneath the shadow of his hat. For the first time in years, he found himself unable to play North Star.

His thoughts were already racing across town. You had gone to the market hours earlier. Mooch had insisted on helping, which really meant you were doing your best to prevent the squirrelish monster from stealing anything shiny while simultaneously buying supplies for yourself.

Across town, you knew nothing of this. You were balancing two baskets full of groceries while gently steering Mooch away from a merchant who had turned his back at precisely the wrong moment. Every few minutes, the squirrel monster would somehow acquire another piece of gold, and you would return it before anyone noticed. It had become a familiar routine. You had long accepted that shopping with Mooch meant walking home twice as tired.

It felt like every other afternoon until Starlo came sprinting through town. His hat was nearly flying off, and his poncho billowed behind him. The sheriff rarely ran unless he was making a spectacle. But this time, there was no performance, no grand speech, and no dramatic declaration.

He reaches you, immediately taking the heavier basket from your hands and subtly positioning himself between you and the main road. His smile returned, but it looked forced, far brighter than usual, too bright. He began rambling about unrelated topics to you. There was apparently an emergency inspection of some fences, then suddenly the road out of town, and maybe the whole town, requiring a patrol. He began suggesting that the gang should all spend the day together.

You simply stared. Starlo only became more animated, pointing dramatically toward buildings that clearly needed no attention. He's insisting Moray inspect cacti for suspicious behavior and asking Ace to double-check absolutely nothing in particular, or anything, really. Just keeping you away from the buildings.

You eventually notice the faint absence of light beneath his poncho. Whenever Starlo became excited, there was a faint glow to him, but when he was anxious, he ate up all the light around him. Right now, there was nothing visible under his hat, not even a flicker. Your pace slows as you quietly step beside him while the others were arguing over each other about something mundane. Your hand brushes against the back of his glove, causing him to startle for just a fraction of a second. Then, his fingers were curling around yours, the grip remaining hidden beneath your ponchos where nobody could see it. His shoulders loosened slightly, and he didn't let go for the remainder of the walk.

Eventually, Ace drifted close enough to notice the unusual behavior. He followed Starlo's line of sight toward the saloon, recognized the shape of the Royal Guards, and then yours. Ace said nothing but casually redirected the rest of the gang down another path, claiming that the market still needed one last inspection. Moray and Ed didn't ask questions, and Mooch complained loudly until she was bribed with the promise of dessert later. The four of them unknowingly form a moving wall around you, monsters walking together, laughing, and shopping. completely ordinary. None sparing you a second glance.

Only after the Royal Guards finally disappeared back indoors did Starlo allow himself to breathe properly again. Later that evening, after you had disappeared to your bed, Starlo finally admitted to the other Feisty Four what could have happened. Silence filled the room. Even Mooch stopped fidgeting. None of them had truly considered what your existence meant outside the safety of the Wild East. To them, you had simply become one of their own: the strange newcomer who, working in the mines, made little gifts for everyone in town, collected oddly shaped rocks, wore oversized cloaks, and somehow tolerated all of their nonsense. They had almost forgotten that the rest of monsterkind wouldn't see you that way.

Ed was the first to speak up. He quietly announced that nobody would be getting anywhere near you without going through him first. Moray is offering to see if they can try performing on the side furthest from your direction. Ace immediately began considering hidden paths and backup routes throughout town out loud. Mooch proudly declared that if anyone started asking questions, they would be too busy looking for their own wallets.

Starlo looked at his friends, his posse, and his family, and then turned his gaze toward the little round door sitting peacefully at the edge of town, the curtains drawn on your windows, and a mailbox stuffed to the brim with letters to and from you. The light inside had already gone out. You were probably asleep. completely unaware of how close danger had come. He intends to keep it that way. As long as the North Star wore his badge and the Feisty Five, no one was taking his human from the Wild East.

Starlo quickly learned that being safe and feeling safe were two completely different things. After your identity was revealed, he expected your old habits to fade away gradually. Instead, they remained unchanged. You still checked the windows before relaxing, checked every exit automatically, and woke at the slightest unfamiliar sound. Eventually, Starlo stopped waiting for those things to disappear. They had kept you alive long before you met him, and instead of trying to change them, he quietly learned to live with them.

Sleeping beside you became an exercise in subtlety. He discovered that rolling over too quickly, reaching across the bed over you, or waking you up in general all carried varying levels of risk. It wasn't that you didn't trust him. Your body simply reacted before your brain had the chance to. More than once, he found himself staring up at the ceiling after being shoved off while he was still only half awake.

The first time he was actually kicked out of bed became legendary, at least in his mind. He had woken before sunrise and leaned over to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face. Before he even touched you, your eyes snapped open. In one frantic movement, Starlo found himself hitting the floor with enough force to knock his glasses clean off. You were already halfway across the room, curled up like a spider with your back against the wall, ready to leap at him, before you actually woke up. The silence afterward was almost painful. Starlo sat there, rubbing the back of his head while his glasses rolled across the floor. You looked absolutely horrified, while he appeared more surprised than hurt. By the time you had wrapped yourself in three blankets out of embarrassment, Starlo was already laughing, not because your reaction was funny; the supposedly fearless sheriff losing a fight against a sleepy human was simply too ridiculous not to laugh about.

After that incident, Starlo developed a routine. If he woke before you, he simply stayed still. If he needed to leave the bed, he climbed out as carefully (and quickly) as possible. If he returned while you were asleep, he made enough quiet noise for your sleeping brain to register someone familiar was nearby instead of silently slipping beneath the blankets. He also stopped taking it personally whenever you startled at his touch. Sometimes, he would reach for your hand, and your entire arm would tense before relaxing a second later. He could actually see the moment recognition replaced habit. Your shoulders would lower, your breathing would even out again, and your fingers would quietly lace with his.

Starlo noticed that you almost never sat with your back toward open space. When everyone gathered in the saloon, you would always pick the chair against the wall. If someone else happened to sit there first, you looked vaguely uncomfortable for the rest of the evening. He never pointed it out. Instead, he started arriving a little earlier than everyone else so he could casually save that seat for you. Nobody questioned why the sheriff always preferred the exact same table.

Crowded places exhausted you in ways that no physical labor could. Spending all day working in the mines barely seemed to tire you compared to walking through a packed marketplace. Starlo eventually realized that it wasn't the number of monsters that bothered you. It was trying to keep track of all of them at once. Whenever errands became overwhelming, he slipped into his loud North Star routine. Every monster's attention would shift toward the ridiculous sheriff making a spectacle of himself, leaving you free to breathe without feeling watched.

You never really stopped locking your door three separate ways before bed. Even after Starlo started staying over more often, you still checked it, sometimes three times. He patiently waited while you finished. Even If it always took an extra minute before the two of you could climb into bed

Your scars became another thing he quietly tried not to freak out over. The ones across your back from the fall still ached when you overworked yourself, and the fresher scars from your first few fights remained sensitive whenever the weather changed. Without saying anything, Starlo positioned himself on whichever side made it easier for you to move. If he noticed you rubbing one shoulder absentmindedly after work, he would already be carrying the heavier basket before you even asked.

Every now and then, Starlo caught himself wishing he could relax like everyone else did. But then he remembered what had happened every single time you had let your guard down before reaching the Wild East. Each scar on your body was proof that caution had been the right choice. It became impossible for him to really resent it after realizing.

The Feisty Four eventually noticed bits of it too. Ace always announced himself before opening doors. Ed accidentally scared you exactly once, and after that, he made enough noise to announce his approach from halfway down the street forever afterward. Moray stopped hugging you from behind, even though they adored hugs. Mooch still forgot occasionally, but after watching you nearly jump into a cactus one afternoon, even she started making exaggerated sneaking noises instead of actually sneaking up on you.

Sometimes, Starlo woke in the middle of the night to find you quietly sitting on the edge of the bed. You weren’t panicking or crying. You were simply listening to the sounds outside. He never asked what you heard. He just sat beside you. After a while, you always lay back down on your own. The things never truly disappeared. Years later, you still work wokequicker than any monster Starlo had ever met. You still flinched at unexpected contact and tracked every unfamiliar face whenever strangers visited the Wild East. Starlo stopped hoping those parts of you would change. Instead, he learned them as thoroughly as he had learned your favorite meals, your work schedule at the mines, the way you absentmindedly collected interesting rocks, and exactly how you liked your tea.

Living and loving you meant embracing the parts of you that survival had shaped too, even if that occasionally meant waking up on the floor because his wonderfully paranoid partner had accidentally launched him out of bed like a shooting star again.